Becoming The Monster
by Deanna.Price
Summary: They were dolls. He tilted his head to the side. They weren't people anymore. They were objects. And he understood. He could hurt them all he wanted. And it would be okay. They were only dolls. It was fine. It wasn't immoral or wrong. It was okay. It was fine.


_Sayu 9 years old. Light 12 years old._

"Come on, Yagami! Tell us what grade you got! Aren't you going to open it and see?"

"I bet he got the highest in the class again!" a girl to his right chimed in.

"Yeah, probably," another boy laughed, "I bet Yagami just doesn't want to make you feel bad with your low grade, Takahashi!"

"Shut up! I didn't do so terribly!"

Light watched quietly as his classmates laughed and teased one another, clenching his fist around his pencil tightly; underneath all the smiles and laughter he knew they were just prying-just testing, desperately and secretly hoping that he had failed so that maybe they could look a little better. Then they would laugh, whisper about him when they thought his ear was turned. "Look," they would say, "Light, he was the best. Really though, he's not so special." But that would never happen. Never. He wouldn't let it. He would always do better, always be better.

And for that they would always resent him, keep him at arms length.

So he kept quiet, refusing to share his grades with his classmates. "It's too personal." he explained when they questioned him. But they all knew. And then all he could do was watch. Because he was special. And nobody really liked when you were special-because you reminded them how ordinary they were. He made them remember they had to work hard, had to try to be extraordinary.

On the walk home he moved slower than he usually did. It wasn't a conscious effort really, but his legs just felt heavier as he mulled over his inadequacy. He could have done better, he _should _have done better. He was gifted, his mother had said—the brightest boy in all Japan. His parents were blessed to have such a smart boy, everyone told them so. But how could he be a blessing with such pathetic results?

An embarrassment. He had let his parents down. No one would come and tell his mother and father how lucky they were, or praise them for raising such a fine boy. He tensed, fearful for a moment. He wouldn't be his parents blessing, only the child who had failed them. His mother would be heartbroken, his father humiliated. And as he imagined their faces in his mind's eye he froze, suddenly not feeling all that up to going home. He stood still, stalling.

But he had to go home, his mother no doubt expecting him. She was probably waiting by the door this very moment, eager to see what her smart little boy had brought home for her to brag about, his father grunting his approval behind her. But there would be _nothing_. He was still first in his class of course-but he had barely made any personal improvement at all, so what would he able to give them? Without that grade he was _**nothing**_.

And then suddenly he was angry-_enraged_. He wanted to tear up the white envelope until the content was unrecognizable, spit on it, and stomp on the remains like a little child. He wanted to yell-to scream. Because really what was the point? He was a disgrace. _Unworthy._

_ "Light, hardworking, good, honest people are what this world needs. That's what we have to be. If not for us, then for our nation and community. To be anything else...well you understand, don't you, son?"_

And he did.

It was his duty to become a benefactor to society. If not, then what was he other than a waste of space? Just like all those other useless children in his class. They wanted to mess around, laugh off their failures. They didn't work hard. They cheated, lied, slacked off. What contribution could they possibly make to their nation-to the world?

The world would be better off if they just disappeared. He _wanted _ them to disappear.

He whirled around, a desire for violence suddenly filling him. So he struck a nearby fence. He kicked it, punched it, shook it with rage, breathing heavy and uneven. He expelled all his rage on the inanimate object. And it was okay. Because he wasn't hurting anyone. Because hurting people was wrong. It wasn't moral. But it was okay to take out his anger on this. That wasn't immoral. It wasn't wrong. So it was okay. He could hurt the fence all he wanted and it would be fine.

He calmed his breathing, tipping his head back to gaze up at the sky unsatisfied. He closed his eyes and tried to understand. He tried to understand why there were bad people, why there were lazy people, lying people, murderers, cheats, bullies, rapists, theives-why, _why, __**WHY?**_

He clenched his fists, nails drawing blood as they dug into the palms of his hands. And then, he reeled it all in, pulling it back deep down inside himself. He stared blankly at the fence he had just assaulted, because suddenly he felt a chilling emptiness inside of him.

Because really what was the point?

And then he was walking again.

* * *

Light observed his father carefully as his mother lit up and squealed in delight at the sight of his progress report. Soichiro Yagami waited patiently, his expression forever grim.

"Light! You did so well! I'm so proud, Light-o." His mother praised, turning to her husband with satisfaction. "Look how well he did, Soichiro!"

_ Proud?_ He lowered his eyes, unable to comprehend why his mother appeared so happy. There was barely an improvement. _Was she dull? _He considered it.

His eyes slid up to gaze at his father when he hummed, taking the slip of paper from his mother, looking it over with unreadable eyes. For some reason Light's heart did not clench in anxiety as it usually did though. He was still curious as to his father's reaction, but not in his usual thirst for acceptance. So he watched him. And finally, after a few agonizing moments, Soichiro nodded his approval. Then he turned as if nothing had occured, walking up the stairs to loosen his tie and change out of his suit. Light looked after him, eyes narrowing as he pressed his lips together into a thin line. His mother was still beaming, eyes shining with pride.

He felt the anger return.

And suddenly he wished his mother was an inanimate object too.

Because then he could hurt her all he wanted and it would be okay.

It would be fine.

But she wasn't.

So he followed his father upstairs, locking himself in his room until dinner.

* * *

At dinner Sayu made a joke.

His mother laughed.

His father's hard eyes softened in a way they never did for him.

He stared at his kid sister, considering her. She wasn't smart, or special. She wasn't the brightest in all Japan. She wasn't hardworking. Sometimes she lied. She could be a bit of a brat too. She never behaved. She had no manners. She talked too loud. She was clumsy, always late to things. Didn't think before she spoke. Couldn't ride a bike. His lips turned downward. She was just a regular girl. Just Sayu.

And he thought, the joke hadn't even really been that funny.

* * *

_ He was in his house. It looked the same, felt the same. But everything was blurry, not quite whole. And it was strange. He sat up in his bed and looked to his night table to glance at the clock. 8:00 a.m._

_ He furrowed his brow, confused. He was late. He had already missed homeroom. His mother should have already come to wake him by now. He let his bare feet hit the floor, climbing out of his bed and heading towards the door._

_ He peeked out of his room. "Mom?" He called. But it was quiet. He padded down_ _the steps, slow and unsure. "Hello?" Again there was no answer._

_ When he entered the kitchen they were all there. Mother, father, Sayu. Talking, eating, smiling. But there was no sound. He couldn't hearthem. He went to his mother, letting his hand fall to touch her lightly at the waist. "Mom..?"_

_ Nothing._

_ "Sayu?"_

_ Silence._

_ "Dad..?"_

_ …_

_ He slid into the chair he normally took at breakfast his family remaining unaware of him. And really, he realized, there was nothing different. He watched them as he usually did. And it was the same._

_ He wasn't sure how long he sat there-so close to them, but feeling so very far away._

_His eyes wandered after a while, and he froze when he noticed a white envelope tucked under one of the plates on the table. He reached out and grabbed it. Tearing it open, he held it out in front him._

_ Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure._

_He was unable to look away from the red ink, hands shaking, eyes glued to the paper._

_He threw it down. And when he looked up his family was staring at him. Laughing. They were all laughing. And he knew then, that all along, all this time, they had __**wanted **__him to fail. They had been waiting for him to fail._

_ His bared his teeth, "Shut up!" He hissed. Rage filled him, making his blood boil and his fists clench. And he wanted to them to disappear. He wanted to hurt them._

_He took a deep breath. No. That wasn't moral. That wasn't right. That's not was a hardworking, good, honest person would do. Because that's what he was. And he wouldn't fail. He wouldn't fail no matter how much they wanted him to. He would never fail. Because he was what was good, what was right._

_ And then when he looked at them again, his 'family', they were stiff and unmoving. His eyes widened, and his lips parted in surprise. _

_ They were dolls._

_ He tilted his head to the side. They weren't people anymore._

_ They were objects._

_ And he understood._

_ He could hurt them all he wanted. And it would be okay. They were only dolls. It was fine. It wasn't immoral or wrong._

_ It was okay._

_ It was fine._

Light shot up, sweat dripping off every inch of his skin. He ripped his sheets off, hot and frightened, heart beating fast-his mind deeply disturbed.

But what really scared him was how it took everything he had to will away the pleasure in his heart.

A/N: I've been working on this for a while. What do you guys think? Did I capture his character well? It's supposed to be a kind of lead up to his ideology. As you can see his father deeply influences him, but he might take the things he says and twist them to his own extreme and sick way of thinking. He has all this pent up rage...and he wants to hurt someone. Has the ability to hurt someone. But he twisted morals keep him from it. He is also jealous of Sayu and cannot seem to understand his parents love and appreciation for her when it seems to him that he's had to work for it his whole life. Because he's so smart and such a gift he feels as if he is constantly trying to live up to this unobtainable image that he has set for himself and the world around him. ...In the end in his dream. He can finally expel his rage by objectifying the people around him. Which he does later in life when he receives the death note. Review and love please!


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